


Come On, Boy!

by Casey_Jowned, moon_hotel



Category: Metal Slug (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:59:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casey_Jowned/pseuds/Casey_Jowned, https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_hotel/pseuds/moon_hotel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco orders Tarma to take down Allen O'Neill as he goes after General Morden. Will do, boss! Tarma Roving always gets the job done...one way or another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come On, Boy!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Casey_Jowned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casey_Jowned/gifts).



> Big thanks to my good friend Casey_Jowned for helping me solidify this idea! She makes an amazing Tarma.

"You take care of Allen," Marco barked, waving Tarma towards the helicopter. "He's on the battleship. Take the copter, I'll take care of Morden!"

"You got it, boss," Tarma affirmed. He ran to the helicopter slug and within moments he'd landed on the battleship. He sprang out of the cockpit with his pistol drawn, and Allen was waiting for him, full of swagger and hefting up his massive machine gun. 

"Where's your buddy, Tarma?" Allen bellowed. "Too chicken to come fight like a man?"  
  
"Like you got room to talk," Tarma retorted, drawing his lips up in a grin. "Bet you wouldn't act so tough without your big, bad machine gun."

Allen was taken aback by that, and his face flushed red. Of course Allen was dangerous with or without a gun, Tarma knew, but he was also never the type to keep a cool head. "I mean, I get my job done with a pistol," Tarma continued, shrugging. "You don't see me overcompensating."

"Overcomp--" Allen sputtered. "What're you saying, boy? You wanna go hand-to-hand, you suicidal little punk?"  
  
Tarma brightened up. If he could get this oaf to fight him without his gun, knocking him out would be a cinch. Tarma was fast and tough enough to fight circles around him--well, probably.   
  
"Yeah. Yeah!" he shouted. "Let's do it! Just you and me, O'Neill. Let's see who's the bigger man where it counts," he snickered.   
  
Allen tossed his gun away with a heavy _clunk_ , his bandolier curling across the ground. Tarma stripped off his flak vest and shirt onto the deck of the battleship, and tossed his handgun on top of that. "Gotta dress for the occasion," he chuckled, and Allen gave him an approving grin.   
  
They circled around each other, growling like dogs. "You're an idiot," Allen spat in his thick voice. "I could crush you just like a bug."  
  
"Oh yeah?" Tarma grunted, drawing closer to him. If he could get Allen to throw a punch, this fight would be over. "Show me."  
  
Instead, Allen ducked and swept his foot across the deck, kicking Tarma's legs right out from under him. "Oof! What the fuck--" he gasped, and Allen tumbled over him until Tarma was on his stomach on the deck, with the sergeant's huge body weighing down on his hips.   
  
Allen laughed one of his raucous laughs. "Told you you were an idiot, boy! I've been training since you were in diapers!"   
  
Tarma pulled his body in and darted out from under his legs, curling his body against Allen's until he'd wrestled him down to the floor. They rolled over each other, panting and sweating, Allen letting out groans of frustration as Tarma squirmed out of his grasp. "Slippery son of a bitch," he grunted. "Stay still!"  
  
"What--" Tarma huffed, trying to catch his breath. "What's the matter, Allen? Getting a little hot under the collar?"  
  
Allen was on top of his hips again, and Tarma wriggled his body to pull back. As he slipped out from between Allen's legs, Tarma's stiffening cock slid up against his ass, and he bit his lip and hoped to God that Allen didn't notice. _Shit_ , he thought. _This is really turning me on._    
  
"I oughta ask you the same thing," Allen laughed, and Tarma nearly jumped out of his skin as he brought his enormous hand down onto Tarma's crotch. "What's this, boy?" he drawled. "Got something you wanna share?"  
  
"Fuck!" Tarma sputtered, flushing pink across his face. "I, I...u-unhhh," he groaned, grinding up into Allen's palm as he gave his cock a rough squeeze. "Oh f-fuck!"  
  
Allen leaned back for a moment, his muscular legs pinning Tarma down at the knees, and Tarma watched in astonishment as he unzipped his fly and tugged down his pants.   
  
He was fucking enormous. Tarma was no slouch himself, but Allen had easily three or four inches on him, and his cock was thick all the way around. God, it looked fucking beautiful, bright pink and stiff and dripping at the tip, and Tarma's mouth began to water just looking at it. "Well?" Allen said smugly. "Still think I got anything to compensate for?"  
  
"I take it all back," Tarma slurred. "Fuck, you're huge all over..."  
  
Allen grabbed him around the waist and pulled him up, turning him around so that he was sitting on the sergeant's monstrous cock. "I'm gonna show you how the Rebel Army trains its men," he growled, and Tarma felt a shudder run through his whole body. "Get ready, boy..."  
  
Allen grabbed Tarma's pants and yanked them down in a rough movement, and his cock sprang into the air, hard and throbbing. "Not bad," Allen remarked, grinning. "Let's see how well you shoot."  
  
He loosened up his grip on Tarma and he sank down onto Allen's slick cock, letting out a moan from deep in the back of his throat. Allen's cock filled him up and stretched him out, tense with just a little bit of a sting, and he started bucking up and down on it greedily. "Fuck!" he cried out, his muscles already starting to tighten up. "Oh god, fffuck..."  
  
"Nngh," Allen grunted, putting his hands on Tarma's waist and pumping into him harder. "Fuck, boy, you're already getting tight--"  
  
"I'm g-gonna," Tarma gasped, and as he felt Allen's cock dig into him again he let out a long yowl, his cock twitching hard in the air as he shot off once, twice, three times, in quick spurts that landed on his chest and stomach. "Oh fuck, fuck, pleeease!"  
  
Allen's cock pulsed once inside him, but he didn't come, and he chuckled down at Tarma as he kept fucking him with long, deep strokes. "That hungry, huh?" he said. "Bet they don't fuck you this good in the Regular Army, do they?"  
  
"You're--you're really good," Tarma panted. "You must get a lot of practice." And then, grinning: "Is that what it takes to be a sergeant in the Rebel Army?"  
  
Allen let out a deep groan, leaned forward and pressed him down onto the deck, so Tarma's ass was in the air and Allen was fucking him hard from behind. "Ah!" Tarma gasped, and he hissed through his teeth as the sergeant's fingers tightened up on his hips. "H-hhh, looks like--nnh!--I hit a nerve!"  
  
"Shut your mouth, you mangy dog!" Allen shouted, and Tarma let out a long moan as he pulled back and slammed into his ass with a hard thrust, his hips slapping against Tarma's. "You come so easy you must be a trained--a trained Regular Army slut!"  
  
Tarma sucked in a breath at that, his muscles clenching up. His cock was stiffening up again by now, and he grabbed himself hard as Allen kept going. "Bet you get this from your buddy all the time, don't you?" he taunted. "Bet you love getting fucked by Major Marco Rossi!"  
  
Tarma came again at that, writhing underneath Allen as he pumped himself hard and shot onto the deck of the ship. "Oh fuck, Marco!" he cried, bucking back against him. If there was one thing that got him off it was Marco behind him after a battle, digging into him over and over again, hungry and depraved. "Marcooo..."  
  
He slumped over onto the ground, a slick, panting mess, and Allen laughed down at him. "Just look at you!" he exclaimed. "Stamina really ain't your strong point, now is it?"  
  
Tarma rolled over onto his back, affecting the most sheepish look he could. "I guess not," he said--  
  
\--and then he caught Allen behind the knee hard with his boot, sending him crashing to the deck. "But my recovery is top-notch!"  
  
Quick as a whip he rolled over and leaned up between Allen's thighs, leaving him on his back on the deck of the battleship, dazed, his hard, thick cock dripping onto his stomach. Tarma slipped into him easily, groaning. "Oh fuck, you're tight," he said, grabbing Allen's hips. "This is gonna be fun."  
  
Allen gasped, tightening up around Tarma's dick as he began to fuck him with quick, hard strokes. "Uh! Unh, god!" Allen moaned into the air, his cock jerking with every pound of Tarma's hips. "Ah!"  
  
"You feel like you want it real bad," Tarma groaned, and Allen pulled one of his legs up, letting him slip in further. "Looks like I'm not the only military slut, huh?" he taunted. "Who'da thunk a big bad guy like you liked getting fucked?"  
  
Allen's moans started to waver and his breaths came quick and shallow. His skin was flush all over and Tarma could feel him tightening up even more, massaging his cock with his strong muscles. He was clearly about to come, and Tarma grinned down at him. Payback time.  
  
"Is this how he does it?" Tarma purred, dropping his voice low, and Allen froze on the spot, his eyes widening. "Is this how Morden fucks you?"  
  
"He--" Allen choked out, barely able to talk as Tarma pounded away at him. "--doesn't--"  
  
"Bullshit!" Tarma said through gritted teeth, grinding his cock deep inside the larger man. "There's no way he doesn't give this to you whenever he can get it--fucking his big hungry guard dog--"  
  
Allen let out a long, ragged moan at that, and he reached down to place his hands on the insides of his thighs, squeezing them and pushing them out, forcing Tarma deeper inside him. "Allen," Tarma groaned above him, pitching his voice as low and gravelly as possible, "Allen!"  
  
"General!" Allen cried out, his fingers tightening on his thighs as his cock jerked hard and he began to come with long, thick spurts onto his stomach and even up to his chest. "General Morden," he gasped, and Tarma gritted his teeth as he came for the third time, shooting deep into Allen's tight body. "Fuck me, General, please! Fuck me!"  
  
They collapsed together into a messy, sticky pile on the battleship, panting and heaving. When Tarma pulled out of Allen, he looked down, grinning at the sergeant, his face beet red, his eyes heavy-lidded and his cock still plump and leaking against his thighs.   
  
Tarma stood up and grabbed his clothes, wiping himself off with his shirt, discarding it, and slipping his vest on over his bare skin. Allen stayed on the ground, probably seeing stars, from the looks of it.   
  
"See, that's the difference between you and me," Tarma chuckled, grabbing his pistol. "When you go down, you go down for the count."  
  
He sauntered back towards the helicopter, then paused, turned around, and slung Allen's enormous machine gun over his shoulder. "Oh, and thanks!" he called out, giving Allen a wave. "Let's do this again sometime!"


End file.
